Find Your Way Back

US Route 1 Bridge

 over Chesapeake and Delaware Canal

Delaware City, DE

29 October 2017

Tom had planned a weekend in western Pennsylvania for two days on a flat trail at the Grand Canyon of Pennsylvania. Sunday's weather got in the way, and instead he gathered us in Bordentown to carpool down to Delaware City, where we would ride near and around the Chesapeake and Delaware Canal.

Jim and I rode with Tom. Jack H took Chris, who had some familiarity with where we were going. "Crabby Dick's," Tom said. "If you get lost, look for Crabby Dick's."

We parked at the eastern terminus of the canal, in Delaware City.

As we were putting our wheels and clothes on, a cyclist getting ready next to us asked us where we were headed. Tom told her. She warned him about the canal bridge in Chesapeake City. "It's steep and narrow," she said. "I wouldn't do it. There are other ways around." I wondered what she meant by steep. Down here a curb ramp is steep.

Tom gave us some time to get some pictures, what Jim called "establishing shots." I wandered towards the Delaware Bay (that might be Fort Mott, NJ in the distance). A boat was pushing something, and at first I thought I was seeing it against a long jetty.

But the jetty was moving. I zoomed in but the sun glare was too bright for me to figure out what I was looking at. (Only at home did I figure out it was a pipe on floats.)

Another boat popped out of the canal.

Kermit rests against a fence along the side of the canal.

Here it wasn't much wider than the D&R Canal back home. This canal, though, is still very much in use.

Tom had promised a flat ride. We did have some elevation gain, though. It was all within the first few miles as we crossed a bridge over the canal.

Below us was an expansive marsh.

We turned onto Reedy Point Road, where we got a good look at our elevation gain:

We moved away from the water, into a headwind.

Tom pointed out an ugly lighthouse in the distance. Somewhere along here we caught a glimpse of the Salem, NJ, nuclear power plant cooling tower too.

But mostly it looked like this.

Tom said he had a bakery picked out for our second rest stop in Chesapeake City. The first stop, though, would be whatever we could find whenever we could find it.

Almost 20 miles in, we stopped  at a Wawa in Middletown, DE. I made some sort of wisecrack about never being too far from home if one can find a Wawa. Inside, though, something was wrong. There were only donuts, no muffins, in the pastry case, and Jim had to go without his usual apple fritter. Anticipating a possible dearth of food, I'd packed a PB&J, so I ate that. I didn't get any coffee; the place Tom had picked out sounded as if it would have better stuff.

We turned north and got a break from the wind, then west again into Maryland. At 31 miles we turned left down a road that Tom suspected might turn to dirt. He hesitated. He said we could cut three miles off the route if we skipped it. But this is the Insane Bike Posse. We weren't the sort to skip it. Down we went, into the wind, for a little over a mile We stopped when we saw the "private road" signs.

"Okay. We're not doing that," Tom said, calling Jack back as he started down beyond the fence.

"Wait!" I said. "Cows!"

I suffer for my art, by the way. As I was taking pictures, one of the cows let out a huge, wet dump.

 I put my camera away and we pushed off back the way we came.

Our next stop was at a tiny marina on the Elk River. There was a little picnic pavilion and a bench facing the water. Jack H sat down. We hung around for a few minutes, taking pictures.

The water here is brackish. On a good day you might see down maybe one foot. The bottom is squishy. It's gross. As a kid I used to swim in it because, given the chance, I'd swim in anything, and it was a whole lot more fun than sailing in it.

We doubled back again and headed towards Chesapeake City. Our rest stop would be before the climb up the bridge.  When the bridge came into view Jim and I stopped to take pictures of it. From where we were standing it didn't look too bad. Narrow, yes, steep, not really.

We rolled down a hill into a touristy-looking little harbor, the cafe that Tom had promised having disappeared. I gently suggested that he Google our rest stop next time. We were about to turn around when we saw the tiny pink shop. Ice cream and pastries. Bingo.

I looked back at the bridge. From here it looked a lot higher.

"We're not doing it," Tom said. I was a little disappointed and a little relieved.

The inside of the store smelled like low tide. Through the windows I could see a picnic bench, Phragmites, and the canal. The kid behind the counter was calm and friendly. I wouldn't have been surprised if we'd been the only customers all day. I could have stayed in there all day just inhaling and looking out the window.

Instead I bought a muffin and coffee for now and two cake pops to take home.

The shore was lined with rocks. Near us was a Virginia creeper vine, with berries, turning red before the leaves of the bush it was climbing.

"Do you know where you're going?" Jim asked. Across the canal we could see bikers and walkers on the paved path,

"No," Tom said, not sounding worried. "We'll find our way back."

That got a song going through my head that I hadn't heard since the mid-eighties. The chorus played in an endless loop as we followed a boardwalk down and around the harbor, then turned east on a road that paralleled the canal.

Tom was confident we'd reach the canal path soon enough. When we finally found a road that went towards the water we took it, only to find that the path on this side was packed dirt.

"We're not doing that," Tom said.  Geez. First the private road, then the bridge, and now this. How could this be a Tom ride? Jack and I were closest to the path, and we suggested it would be okay to ride on. "Turn around," he said, so we did.

We reached the intersection with Route 301. Tom knew that this would cross the canal. Whoever is in charge of canal bridges does a good job of making them interesting. This is the Summit bridge.

The shoulder was narrow and I motioned the guys to go past me so that I could take a picture. It probably wasn't the safest thing for me to do, neither for the guys or for myself. I did my best to wait until there weren't any cars coming, but I still felt guilty for the next mile or two.

See that railroad lift bridge in the distance?

Here it is again. Tom had found the canal path, although when we turned onto it the rest of us weren't sure.  I suggested to Chris that Ira might have to cede his cul-de-sac leader title to Tom.. It was paved, and even striped for two-way traffic. It got us confused as it looped around a bay and we were all sure we were headed the wrong way.

Tom held up his middle finger to show Jack and Jim our trajectory. I made him keep his finger up. After what he did last week, it's going to be a thing now.

While we were stopped, a tugboat pulling a barge loaded with freight containers slowly approached us.

Chris said it looked as if the barge were tailgaiting. I wondered if the tugboat had a bumper sticker reading, "If you can see this you're too close."

"Hey, Tom," I said as we rode along. "I have this song stuck in my head, some 80s thing that was popular for about five minutes. Do you remember 'Find Your Way Back?' I think it might be Boston but I'm not sure."

He knew the one I was talking about and thought it might be Boston. It was going to bother me for the rest of the ride; I'd have to Google it on the drive home.

Meanwhile there were more bridges to ogle, like this one, the Route 1 crossing:

Beyond Route 1 was Route 13:

Then the bridge we crossed in the morning came into view. The path veered away from it towards Delaware City.

We'd noticed the ice cream parlor when we'd parked, and now we went in.

This being a tourist spot, there was a tourist t-shirt for sale, one that was trying far too hard to be funny: "Crabby Dick's Fudge Packing Company -- Packed for Your Pleasure."

Tom drove while Chris and I finished our ice cream. I pulled out my phone to find out about that song.

"Jefferson Starship!"

Speaking of trying too hard. This song embodies everything that was wrong with rock in the 1980s. I liked it a lot more then than I do now, now that I've gone and downloaded the thing.

Moose has reminded me that the Starship has done far worse: "We Built This City," which was once named worst. rock. song. ever. I'll spare you and not link to it. You can find it on your own at your peril.